


As I See It - A Miraculous Ladybug Journalist AU

by glockmonkey



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Swears, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, F/M, POV Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, POV Alternating, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glockmonkey/pseuds/glockmonkey
Summary: Adrien’s double life is a blessing and a curse. By day, he’s making a fortune by modeling, but can’t seem to escape his father. By night, he’s a critic of people’s horrible fashion sense in a magazine rivaling his father’s own. His life’s going swimmingly, if you haven’t noticed.Marinette is a widely celebrated journalist for Mira Magazine, one of the most-read magazines in France. She can hardly believe it when she learns that she has an interview with the Adrien Agreste, although she is quite famous herself. This isn’t the only job she’s juggling, though. One of her superiors has promoted her to an additional writing position in one of the magazine’s branch-off circulars. She’s now tasked with letting fashionista wannabes down gently while another, meaner, writer sets their dreams on fire. What more could anybody want?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. In Which Adrien Wins Himself An Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first Miraculous fanfic, so constrictive criticism is greatly appreciated! I don't have an update schedule yet (sorry). There's not going to be any sexual content, but there is strong language! Credits to my main man Connor for editing this! :3

_ “Adrien, sweetie, never become one of those celebrities who order everybody less famous around, ‘kay? I’ve had enough of your father’s ego for a lifetime.” _

_ Adrien laughs. “Promise.” _

\---

A phone rung, a repetitive tone that Adrien would rather walk on hot coals than answer right now.

“Natalie, could you- shit, nevermind, I’ll get it.” Adrien grabbed the phone with his free hand, and contemplated passing the half-empty glass in the other to Natalie, before deciding against it. “This is Ad- a representative of the _Adrien Agreste_ _Brand_ speaking. How can I help you?”

“This is Alya Césaire of  _ Mira Magazine _ speaking, I’m calling about a potential interview? I spoke to someone last week about it, and they said to call back if you didn’t respond within the week.”

Adrien shot a glance at Natalie, who looked at Adrien sympathetically over the edge of her glasses.

“You seemed on edge, sir. I was going to bring it up.”

“Adrien,” he whispered back defeatedly, then turned back to the phone. “Who is this potential interview with, again?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Now this name, Adrien knew. Marinette was well-known, at least to French celebrities like him. He’d never been able to snag an interview with her- somehow, he’d never even considered the possibility. Most reporters had at least one thing they did that the interviewees couldn’t stand. Some asked too many personal questions. Others twisted every word coming out of their subject’s mouth, or were notorious for flirting with every remotely rich person they met. Marinette was known for the opposite. Every mention he’d ever heard of her had consisted of the words “sweet,” “angelic,” or, bluntly, “the embodiment of strawberry macarons.”

You bet Adrien was getting that interview.

“When?”

“Sorry?” said the voice on the phone. “You went quiet for a minute there.”

“When’s the interview?”

“Does tomorrow work? It’s late notice, but I did call last week.”

“Yep. What time?”

“Half-past two?”

Adrien mouthed the plans to Natalie. 

“Adrien,” Natalie protested quietly, “you have a-”

“Reschedule it,” Adrien paused. “Please?”

“Hello?” the phone said, tinnily. 

“That works.” Adrien saw Natalie put her head in her hand before picking up her tablet, a pang of guilt knocking at his brain.

“Great! It’s a date, then. I’ll send the rest of the information by email.”

“Thanks.” Adrien hung up the phone with a  _ click _ .

  * \- -



Alya Césaire slammed her boss’ office door open.

“Guess who booked you an interview with the one and only Adrien Agreste?” Alya exclaimed.

“You did  _ what _ !?” The interviewer in question shrieked, in excitement and horror. 

“Who’s the best secretary? It’s me!” Alya continued. She did a funny little dance to shut the door of the office, while juggling the stack of papers in her hands.

“When is it? Oh, my God, I can’t do it! Can I? I can’t!”

Alya grimaced, putting the relevant documents hesitantly on Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s desk. “That’s the thing… I scheduled for tomorrow.”

“ _ Tomorrow? _ ” she squeaked. “Oh,  _ no, _ I have a lunch with Jagged Stone tomorrow-”

“Relax, I rescheduled with him already. Your day’s free, and-”

“I don’t have a clue what to ask! 

“Mari! Calm down! Listen!” 

Marinette smoothed her blouse and tried her best to look calm and professional, but her pink face refused to change colour. 

“You meet Adrien in the interview room at the top of the building at two-thirty. The room’s booked for an hour and a half, but since you’re  _ Marinette Dupain-Cheng _ and he’s  _ Adrien Agreste,  _ it’s not a big deal if you go over time.”

“That seems like an abuse of power…”

“Chloé Bourgeois is booked next,” Alya stated, like she was prepared for the objection. Knowing her, she probably was. 

“Proceed.”

Alya inhaled grandly, then went on, “I have a set list of questions you’ve mentioned wanting to ask, plus some extras you like to ask everyone, as well as a few I picked myself- you’re free to adjust it accordingly. Any questions?”

“The interview’s on the top floor, right?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

Her fingers drummed nervously on the desk. “What if he’s afraid of heights?”

“He had a photoshoot at the top of the Eiffel Tower a few weeks ago,” Alya 

replied.

“What if he used a greenscreen? Oh, no, he wouldn’t- would he? He wouldn’t,” 

Marinette muttered.

“Marinette, relax. Just get the questions ready and everything will be  _ fine _ .”

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, Alya?”

Alya froze in her hasty retreat from the room, escaping further questions. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. You’re the best secretary ever.”

“You bet I am!” Alya shouted, pumping her fists in the air as the door slammed shut behind her.

  * \- -



Adrien seemed to be having trouble avoiding his father. 

He’d tried moving out of his father’s house; that had been easy. He’d been eighteen at the time, but modeling was a career that paid well, especially if you had someone behind the scenes pulling strings for you. If the person pulling those strings was your world-famous, charismatic, fashion designer father, then the world was at your fingertips. Except the world was quite small if that father insisted that your living space had the surveillance of a high-security prison. Which wasn’t too far from the truth.

Adrien had attempted getting his own office, outside of his father’s grand edifice. This hadn’t worked out as well as he’d hoped, seeing as most of his work took place outside of your average rental office. Still, he was able to stay there unsupervised for a time, until his father sent his personal assistant, Natalie, to “manage the more difficult business affairs.” Adrien thought he was handling his affairs very well, thank you very much, save for the occasional double-booked afternoon.

Finally, more recently, he’d tried journalism. It was a bit of a stretch for a model, sure. He’d gotten a job with a popular fashion magazine -  _ Clover _ , it was called - under a pseudonym. One of the editors had been looking for volunteers to employ a more “modern” take on your standard advice column, and Adrien had offered himself up to be their guinea pig. A fashion advice section, they’d suggested, with a twist: he wouldn’t be working alone. Together, with another nicer, more gentle individual, he’d be the bad cop in the crime case that was a poor reader’s terrible fashion sense. 

Applying without the risk of being exposed as himself to every higher-up at  _ Clover _ had been tricky. Luckily, the mastermind of the endeavor had agreed to be the only one not kept in the dark in regards to their true identities. The column was to be written completely virtually to protect his co-author’s identity from the public, who was, presumably, another renowned fashion model. The specifics of his adventure were secure from the public and his ball-and-chain of a father, and so peace fell upon the lands of Adrien’s freedom, and the angels sang  _ Hallelujah _ from the heavens.

Except, there was a catch: the magazine it was to be published in was in heavy competition with his father’s own. 

And from the heavens dropped a nuclear fucking bomb.

This wasn’t an immediate threat, really. It wasn’t like his father knew that it was  _ him _ criticizing people’s awful fashion senses. But, Adrien’s father was quite disappointed with his son’s life decisions already. He could almost imagine it.

_ "Adrien, you’ve dishonored the Agreste name.” _

It wasn’t like it was all that respectable to begin with.

_ “Adrien, how would your mother feel about this?” _

Adrien thought she might be proud of him for venturing outside of his father’s reach. Not that it mattered. 

“ _ Adrien, I’m very disappointed in you.” _

That wasn’t a very hard thing to accomplish, in Adrien’s experience. 

Nonetheless, going against his father’s wishes had always worked out in his favour, so Adrien had taken the job. 

And thus began Adrien Agreste’s career as Chat Noir, the wryly charismatic fashion critic. 


	2. In Which Marinette Makes The Acquaintance Of A Fashion Model

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fellas! I'm going to try and update this fic every other Sunday. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks to my friend Connor for editing!

_ “Marinette, ma chère, never wait until just before a deadline to get things done.” _

_ “That isn’t going to help now. This project is due tomorrow!” _

\- -

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,  _ oh no! _ ”

Marinette was pacing the floor of her office at a speed that rivaled her rising rate of panic. The night before, she’d left the interview question list for her future self to deal with. Now, it was 1:30 in the afternoon and there was something not quite right about the set list. And Marinette couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I swear I had all the usual questions,” muttered Alya. She was currently bearing witness to Marinette’s nervous breakdown.

“Plus, we still need three more questions, to fill in the ones I cut!”

“You’re asking about what he thinks of his fanbase, right?”

“Of course! I’m not that scatterbrained...” Marinette stopped in her tracks in the middle of the room. “His outfit!”

“His outfit?”

“His outfit. Chances are, he’ll be wearing something of his father’s design, for advertising. I have to ask about it.”

“You are such a fashion nerd, Mari.” Alya descended from her perch on the sill of the picture window. Marinette, who was seated at her desk, began hurriedly typing into her computer. The seconds ticked slowly past as she worked. Marinette noticed Alya begin to fidget.

Finally, Alya broke the silence. “Coffee?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” Marinette replied, her eye still on the clock on the wall.  _ 2:00 pm _ , it read.

A few minutes passed in silence, until Alya burst through the door. This wasn’t what startled Marinette - Alya burst through a lot of things. The look in her eyes was frantic, making Marinette jump from her seat.

“It’s Adrien! He’s early!”

“Oh,  _ no- _ ”

\- - -

Adrien quite liked  _ Mira Magazine _ ’s office building. Everything in it had a modern feel: the colour scheme, the furniture, the form of the building itself. 

The roof of the main foyer towered above him, and from the floor of the atrium he could see into the offices higher up. The whole place was abuzz with activity. He could see meetings taking place behind glass walls. He also spied a secretary, who had fallen victim to two cups of burning coffee. He moved to help her, but she fled the lobby soon after. The journalism industry was funny like that. 

He’d been here before;  _ Clover _ , the magazine he wrote for, was a branch-off publication by  _ Mira _ . That time, he’d been terrified of recognition as himself, for fear of being snitched on to his father. Today was different; he was allowed to be here.  _ Mira Magazine _ itself did not compete directly with his father’s own magazine. It was known for its gossip, which Adrien’s father was firmly against publishing himself. Essentially, Adrien was in the clear.

He’d come early, as he had been skeptical of Paris’ difficult traffic. Adrien approached the front desk, whose captain was currently on the telephone.

“...spilled coffee in the lobby, again, tell Miss Césaire to learn what a drink holder is. Yes, I  _ know _ that she’s got a higher position than I do, but can you at least send a janitor to clean up this mess? We’ve got Adrien Agreste coming in in fifteen…” at this, she glanced up at Adrien and sighed. “Zero minutes. Send a janitor. Please.” The attendant hung up the phone, and reached? towards an overfilled binder. “Your appointment’s at 2:30 in interview room 801, but since you’ve graced us with your presence early-  _ Miss Césaire! Come here! _ ”

The subject of this last statement already seemed to be approaching them both. She was also, Adrien remarked, the same person who had dropped the coffee a few minutes prior. 

“Sorry about the coffee, I already called over a janitor- hey, Mr. Agreste! Pleased to make your acquaintance! Since you came so early, what do you say to a tour of the building before your interview with Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Adrien was wondering how everyone seemed to know exactly what his business was. It made him extremely uncomfortable. Even so, he shook the hand that the Spiller-of-Coffee proffered and followed.

“Oh, I’m so rude! I forgot to introduce myself. Alya Césaire, I work as a secretary for Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“I’m Adrien Agreste, but you knew that already. Pleased to meet you,” Adrien said. 

“Likewise.”

Alya showed him more of the building than he’d yet seen in his own ventures. The atrium led into a bigger office building, which matched the lobby. It reminded Adrien of his father’s own building. The many floors above held employees and stories alike, the latter of which Adrien’s guide knew many. 

“... and here, in this very room, Luka Couffaine had his very first professional interview. I was in the same class as his younger sister in high school, you know; both of them had superb music taste…”

Through all her fantastic stories, Adrien noticed that Alya was on edge. She seemed to glance at her watch almost every time he looked away. Finally, her watch buzzed and she let out a sigh of relief. 

“Alrighty! Let’s head up to your final destination:  _ La Tour du Destin! _ ”

Destiny Tower was the name of the topmost floors of the  _ Mira _ building. It was, per its name, a tower extending from the top of the main building. Alya led Adrien to an elevator, ascending the pair to their final destination. The doors opened, presenting Adrien with the most breathtaking view of Paris he had ever seen.

He could see nearly everything from his point in the tower. The rooftops displayed a city he rarely saw in his daily life, meant only for those lucky enough to have wings. He was a guest in this space, he could tell, but he felt welcomed by those crowded rooftops below.

“Woah,” he said, pathetically.

\- - 

“Nice view you’ve got up here,” a voice said. 

Marinette nearly jumped from her place on the sofa and ran right then and there. Adrien Agreste himself was standing in the doorway, and she was going to interview him. 

Wow. 

She should be used to meeting celebrities by now, as one of Paris’ most celebrated journalists. But every time was a shock. One second, she was trying to find a seat on the Metro, and the next she was talking to her third celebrity this week. She was going to get whiplash from all this back-and-forth. 

Thankfully, she had the experience she needed to be able to greet Adrien Agreste (himself!) in a civil manner. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pleased to meet you!”

“Pleased to meet you too, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Adrien Agreste.”

“Oh, please, call me Marinette.” she gestured towards the sitting area behind them both. “Shall we?”

Adrien nodded, and took a seat on the couch. Marinette stared desperately towards the doorway, where Alya shot her an encouraging thumbs-up. Marinette gave her a look worth a thousand words, or, rather, four:  _ Please don’t leave me! _ Alya rudely ignored her boss and shut the door behind her. This left Marinette alone with her interviewee, who was waiting for his first question. She cleared her throat and turned on the recording device on the coffee table. 

"First question: what would you say is your greatest achievement as a model to date?”

\- -

“Last, but certainly not least, which of your father’s designs that you’ve modeled is your favourite?”

“My favourite design… it would be the  _ Costard du Ciel  _ from the  _ Brillante _ collection. The whole suit’s sparkling, which looks really nice against the blue of the outfit. It was comfortable, too.” 

Adrien watched Marinette switch off the recording device. She fell back against her chair.

“Thanks so much for coming,” she told him. “Sorry for the late notice.”

“It was no trouble,” Adrien lied, politely.

His interviewer stared into space for a moment, then sat up abruptly. “How do you feel about coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“That is, unless you have something else booked for the afternoon… forget it-”

“Oh, with you!” Adrien exclaimed. “No, I’m free, let’s do it!”

“Oh!” Marinette looked flustered, though he didn’t understand why. He’d had many outings with interviewers post appointment. “Okay. I know a good coffee shop down the street.”

This was how Adrien found himself at the  _ Clochette _ with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The café was a cozy establishment, but a place that Adrien’s eyes would have skipped over had he not had a guide. It was wedged between a larger, fancier restaurant and a flashy spa, both outshining the tiny shop. Marinette guided Adrien towards the front counter. There, she ordered for herself a mocha and half a dozen macarons. She stepped back to allow Adrien to order.

“I’ll pay for my own order.”

“I invited you, it’s on me,” Marinette insisted.

“A mocha too, please,” Adrien said to the cashier. “Extra chocolate, and a chocolate eclair, please.”

“Somebody’s got a sweet tooth, huh?” Marinette said, pulling out her purse to pay for the snacks. “Oh, wait, that came out wrong. I do too. I grew up in a bakery, so I didn’t really have a choice…” 

“That must’ve been fun. Your parents’?”

“Yeah. They were a little upset that I wouldn’t be continuing the business when I went after journalism. I’ve got a cousin that’s working there for the time being, though, maybe he’ll be the successor.” Marinette passed Adrien his order, and moved to claim a table.

“I hope my father finds someone other than me to take up the business when he’s retired. I’m no good at textile design,” said Adrien. “It’s not like he’s short of good choices, though.” 

Marinette took a sip of her mocha. “What’s it like, working under your father?”

“Surprised you didn’t ask that in the interview. Most people do,” said Adrien. 

“I felt like it’d be too generic.”

“Fair. It’s boring, mostly, but it pays well. What’s it like working for such a big magazine?” Adrien asked. He knew his answer, but he figured his own would be much different from Marinette’s.

“I get to meet a lot of celebrities, which is fun. Lots of people at my highschool made it big, though, so I wouldn’t have missed out on that if I didn’t work for Mira.”

“Like who?” asked Adrien. He was recalling a similar conversation with her secretary a couple of hours prior.

Marinette began counting off celebrities on her fingers. “Oh, Nathaniel and Marc Kurtzberg - they wrote  _ The Mini Menace Ladybug.  _ Alix Kubdel, the roller skater, and Luka Couffaine. Oh, and she isn’t quite famous, but my assistant, Alya, was in my class, too.”

“Wow,” said Adrien. “I know quite a few stars, too, but for different reasons.”

“I bet.”

Adrien took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I was homeschooled, but I’m good friends with a few people from my extracurriculars. Like Kagami Tsurugi, she’s a popular fencer, but fencing isn’t too popular nowadays, sadly.”

“That’s a shame. A different world it would be, if parents sent their kids off to play with swords rather than footballs.”

“My father did,” said Adrien with a grin. “Now I can confidently wield a fencing sword at renaissance fairs.”

The conversation continued like this for a while. Adrien began to see why Marinette was so celebrated amongst France’s stars. She was nice, and funny, and seemed like the kind of person that other people’s pets like more than their owners. She was a nice break from Paris’ usual snobby celebrities. 

Marinette told Adrien that the café was a favourite place of hers. It was second only to her parents’ bakery and the Eiffel Tower, in that order. Adrien relayed that his were his own apartment and the Paris-Plages. He didn’t have many specific favourites beyond that, he told her. Adrien recounted to Marinette some of his stories from modeling.

“...and then the seven inch stiletto  _ broke _ !”

“What? No way!”

In return, Marinette shared some of her own anecdotes. Adrien was surprised to learn of all the weird things celebrities did when they were out of the spotlight.

Eventually, the light outside began to dim, and Marinette informed Adrien that she had to get going. 

“I’ve still got work to finish before tomorrow,” she sighed. “Thanks for coming, though! See you around?”

“See you around,” Adrien agreed.

\- -

Marinette was way behind on her work. Ladybug’s work, rather.

It was only a few months ago that Mr. Wang offered Marinette her extra job. Under a pen name, of course.

“As an extra job, since you love fashion so much,” he’d said. “You would be looking at the positives of someone’s latest outfit. Another writer would be looking at the negatives.”

She’d been uncertain about it at the time. Another gig, on top of her already towering workload from  _ Mira _ ‘s main functions. Still, she could never resist a chance to write about fashion, so she agreed. Plus, Mr. Wang had offered to ask management to decrease her workload. She had agreed. 

Now, she was struggling with a case in which there were few positives. This was a more common occurrence than one might think. Her partner had already sent in his response, which had been forwarded to Marinette. Unfortunately, it only helped highlight the flaws in their subject’s ensemble.

Marinette sighed, putting her head in her hands. 

_ Dear Flora Fun _ , she tried.  _ Your colour palette is great! _

It was not. 

_ Your colour palette is good! _

Eh, thought Marinette. 

_ Your colour palette holds a lot of potential! _

Fair. 

_ I like your use of flowers with meaning! It really gives the outfit some poetic value. _

Now she was getting it. 

_ You can see the intricacies in its design. I suppose the revealing aspect of the dress is meant to show how naturality hides nothing. In which case, great work! _

The dress was revealing. As things made entirely out of backyard plants often are, but that was besides the point.

_ Your hairstyle is relevant to the theme, as well! It very well displays the simplicity of nature at its finest. _

She’d said the word “nature” twice. Well, once, but the root word was the same. 

_ It very well displays the simplicity of Earth’ terrain at its finest.  _

That just sounded mean. 

_ It very well displays the simplicity of the environment at its finest.  _

Now she was stuck. She looked towards the copy of her partner’s statement desperately. 

_ My eyes are burning! Why are your sleeves different sizes? _ it said, unhelpfully. 

_ Why’d they get the easy job? _ Marinette wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if using rich text instead of HTML affects how some of you guys can read it! I'm not quite sure what the difference between them is, except that I can use italics (hooray!) and some other things.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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